the Traveling Homeschooler
by Kristina Brooke
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August 9th, 2009
Step Out of the Woods, Out of the Dark, and Into the Light…
My name is Kristina and I am FAT.
I have been secretly reciting this to myself lately. Not as a way to keep me down but rather as a way to remind myself of a reality that I have spent years running from. See, it was not until I saw myself next to my very weight-conscious friends from work that I started to really understand just what I have done to myself.
Most of my work friends weigh between 130-140 pounds, shop at the designers boutiques, and never have to worry if the latest company Unity shirt will fit. They are not afraid to be seen eating a cookie or brownie lest someone think, “that’s exactly why your ass is a big as a house.” And yet, listening to them throw insults at themselves- “I’m disgusting,” or “I’m gross”- was a constant source of sadness for me. After all, if they thought they were disgusting at 140 pounds, then they must look at me in fright and disgust.
I understand that even skinny people have body-image issues, but this blog is not about them. It is about me and what hearing them did to me. I admit that at a certain point I just tucked that rage away only to dig it out as I plowed through another order of wings- OK, wings, and quesodilla, and two slices of pizza- from the local pizza joint. And as the weight steamrolled me, I would avoid looking in mirrors, or shopping, or eating in public. I would hide.
The truth is hard to hide however. It always manages to seep into the light and no matter what we do to cast a shadow over it, eventually it’s rays are so strong that there is nothing left to do but accept it- arms wide open.
For me this happened in stages. It began with my clothes not fitting and continued. Having to retire my hooker boots and heels because they no longer supported my weight. See people who had not seen me in a long time try desperately not to look at me. Not fitting in booths at restaurants. Having my mother tell me that I was too fat to be pregnant. The verbally abusive 14 year-old who called me a “Fat Bitch” on a daily basis during my first year of teaching. My mother telling me that my fat would suffocate my unborn child. Being afraid to have sex with the lights on. Only having sex in the same position…
The list of cues is endless.
But there is one that made it all clearer: My daughter. She wanted so desperately to have Mommy chase her and after only like two runs, I sat on the sofa, exhausted and in tears. I want to run with her. I want to take her to amusement parks and fit on the rides. I want to be healthy. I don’t want her to be ashamed of me or worry that Mommy may not live.
And I want, more than anything for her to know the real me. Not the me who is always hiding and running from the truth:
My name is Kristina and I am Fat!
photo credit: h.koppdelaney
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